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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22797100">i swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth (you swallow my heart and flee)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid'>voxofthevoid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>couldn't get the boy to kill me [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Porn, Break Up, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Emotional Sex, Injured Character, M/M, Relationship Issues, Rough Sex, Surprise Kissing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:28:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,529</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22797100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t believe me, Cap? And here I thought that was what you wanted.”</p><p>“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Steve’s glare pierces through Bucky, but there’s something beyond anger to it, a feeling Bucky’s too scared to scrutinize. He doesn’t get a chance either way; Steve shakes his head a second later, lips thinning further. “No. Never mind. We’re not playing this game. I’m done, Bucky.”</p><p>He sounds like he means it, Bucky’s name heavy on his tongue. This isn’t the first time Steve has refused to play along, but he always caves and now, there’s finality in his tone, in the look in his eyes. </p><p>Bucky’s across the room in a flash, taking the mug from Steve’s hands and straddling his lap. His weight’s on Steve because he can damn well take it, and Steve’s not so good an actor that he can hide how he likes Bucky so close, all pretty in his lap.</p><p>Bucky fists his free hand in Steve’s hair and puts the coffee on the table. There’s a drop of it on Steve’s upper lip, dark and inviting, and Bucky leans in and licks it off.</p><p>“Tastes like shit,” he rasps, and then he’s kissing Steve.</p><p>-<br/>Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>couldn't get the boy to kill me [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>787</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth (you swallow my heart and flee)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">

        <li>
          Translation into Русский available: 
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28937916">i swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth (you swallow my heart and flee)</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/avadakedavra/pseuds/avadakedavra">avadakedavra</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_Bucky_Bottom_2021/pseuds/WTF%20Bucky%20Bottom%202021">WTF Bucky Bottom 2021 (WTF_Bucky_Bottom_2021)</a>
        </li>


    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fic title from "Dirty Valentine" by Richard Siken.</p><p>My tumblr can be <a href="https://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com/">found here.</a> <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kocuria">kocuria</a> made the gorgeous banner &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><hr/><p> </p><p>The downside of being a human in a team like the Avengers is that your enemies are prepared for supersoldiers and flying armors and literal gods, so you get caught up in things not meant for squishy little mortals.</p><p>Not that that’s ever stopped Bucky. Or Clint. Or Sam. He wants to add Natasha to the group, but he’s got his doubts about her. The Red Room got up to some shit.</p><p>Point is that though Bucky’s a damned good shot and got a metal fucking arm, he’s still human and very much not built for jumping off third-storey windows. In his defense, he wasn’t expecting the building he was in to get hit by a fucking disintegrating laser or whatever the fuck the lunatic-of-the-week called his pet project. He’s pretty damn proud of himself for at least making it to down the third floor before he had to jump. Of course, that doesn’t make his leg any less broken, but he’s alive and that’s always a plus. He already has to deal with Bruce, Tony, and Sam making guilt eyes at him in their own uniquely fucked-up ways for failing to catch him, never mind that they were fighting a horde of mutated reptiles. They’d have been insufferable if he died. Well, that would also have been other people’s problem, but still, it’s the principle of the thing.</p><p>And really, Bucky’s fine. Just happily drugged to his gills most of the time and cranky when he’s lucid. He’s not looking forward to physiotherapy. Been there, done that, got the fucking metal arm to prove it.</p><p>He’s lucid now, which makes sense since it’s the pain that woke him up anyway. It’s nighttime, and the room’s dark. It’s also empty, which is a first. He got used to waking up to different Avengers fretting at his bedside, with the notable exception of Natasha who was aggressively calm and suitably terrifying while she brought Bucky up to date.</p><p>The only person who hasn’t shown up is Steve. Bucky doesn’t know how to feel about that so he doesn’t think about it.</p><p>Well, he tries. His mind’s a piece of shit that likes to remind him of how diligent Steve usually is about visiting injured members of the team and healing them with his goddamn golden aura. He got fucking Natasha to smile when she was laid up with a couple of broken ribs. He spent an entire week haunting Sam’s apartment when he caught the flu.</p><p>Bucky’s not his friend the way Sam and Natasha are. But you’d think that being a regular fuck – and a damned good one at that – would at least earn him a perfunctory visit.</p><p>And with the way Steve acts, all wounded and tight-lipped when Bucky ghosts him after a hook-up, you’d think he – no, not <em>think</em>. It’s no fucking secret. Steve wants more from Bucky, wants to hold hands and kiss him on the mouth and probably take him out to dinner, be all sweet on him the way Bucky doesn’t let him be unless he’s been fucked out of his last two brain cells. He fucking loves Bucky, if the twisted thing they’ve nursed to life between them can be called love.</p><p>And yeah, maybe he’s pissed Bucky won’t give him that, but still, he could visit. He could show he cares.</p><p>He snarls, pissed at himself for losing control of his thoughts. He planned to swallow the pain and stay up a bit just to enjoy the rare solitude, but if this is where that gets him, then he’s better off passing out. He’s about to do exactly that when the shadows stir.</p><p>Bucky’s painfully alert the next second, silently cursing his bulky cast and bruised body. He’s useless like this, weak as a kitten, and it’s testament to how fucking out of it he is that he didn’t even notice that someone was in the room with him. They’re hidden in the deep darkness of a corner, but that’s no excuse. Bucky’s a soldier, a spy, an ex-S.H.I.E.L.D agent, and an Avenger – he can’t afford this shit.</p><p>“Who the fuck is there?” he calls out, his voice hard and threatening unlike the picture he makes.</p><p>A figure moves in the shadows and the light flicks to life.</p><p>Steve Rogers takes his finger off the switch and takes a step closer to Bucky’s bed.</p><p>Bucky squints, sensitive to the light but unwilling to take his eyes off Steve lest he vanish like a fever dream. It’s not unfeasible to think that that’s all he might be, but when Bucky discreetly pinches his own wrist, the sting is sharp and real.</p><p>“Was wondering if I’d see you, Cap,” Bucky says quietly. “Miss me?”</p><p>He can’t help the snide addition or the lopsided smirk. He doesn’t really believe it. Yeah, he’s got a good ass, and Steve sure as hell likes it, but he’s also a good man. It’s just that Bucky brings out the worst in him. That’s what he does to people, what he’s become.</p><p>Steve doesn’t answer, and his face gives nothing away. His expression is cool and closed-off; that’s never a good sign.</p><p>He comes to a stop by Bucky’s bed, looming over him. Bucky can’t take his eyes off him, can’t breathe at the sight of him, and ain’t that his own special slice of hell?</p><p>Steve leans in, one hand braced on the pillow by Bucky’s head, and his eyes are so fucking blue, burning straight through Bucky.</p><p>He’s a little lost in it, basking in the sight and smell of Steve, and he’s caught unawares by the mouth pressing against his. It’s chaste, unbearably so, and lasts all of two seconds.</p><p>It feels like an eternity.</p><p>Steve draws back, straightens, and stalks right out of the room.</p><p>Bucky stares after him, a name fluttering helplessly in his throat.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>They don’t kiss.</p><p>It was their first rule. The one time Steve tried, all those years ago in simpler times, Bucky turned his face away and let him sink hungry teeth into his throat. Steve took the hint. It’s not like Bucky hasn’t offered since – yeah, he was drunk, and yeah, he’d have regretted it after, but Steve said no anyway. Noble bastard, good down to his soul even when he’s breaking against Bucky’s ragged edges.</p><p>It’s not that Bucky doesn’t want it, not that he doesn’t ache for it. But he needs his lines in the sand. They both do. He’s already given so much to Steve, already taken so much from him. It would be easy to lose sight of boundaries when half of them are more nuisance than need. Easy to just–</p><p>Steve’s easy to love, but Bucky’s only ever known peace with a weapon in his hand, not another man’s fingers, and these days, even that’s–</p><p>Bucky isn’t built to love, is the thing.</p><p>Steve doesn’t come back after kissing him and fleeing his room. Bucky gets discharged not long after and the moment he can, he throws himself into recovery. He tried the civilian route for a very brief time after he was honorably discharged from the army, sans an arm and rapidly losing his ability to fake mental stability. Needless to say, it didn’t go so well.</p><p>The years since then haven’t made him any better at not being a gun.</p><p>Helen Cho is a godsend. She makes Bucky work for the miracles she gives him, but he doesn’t mind, would do mind-numbing exercises until his brain gave up and killed him if it means that he can be back in action as soon as possible. But it’s harder this time, and Bucky doesn’t think too deeply on why there’s neither satisfaction nor anticipation accompanying the burn in his muscles and the sweat on his skin. He misses the trigger under his fingers, but the thought of perching on a rooftop with rifle in hand makes his gut knot up.</p><p>The Avengers keep in touch. Even Thor drops in once, spending a few hours telling Bucky of his most ridiculous injuries. His brother seems to be involved in almost all of them.</p><p>Steve doesn’t show, not once. It’s obvious soon enough that he’s putting considerable effort into avoiding Bucky.</p><p>Bucky’s conflicted. He appreciates the distance. He needs it, after that kiss. He can’t go a few hours, let alone a day, without thinking about it. He touches his lips sometimes, hesitant and wondering, and spends the next several minutes fuming over his idiocy.</p><p>He should have seen it coming, really. This has been building a long time; after Sharon and that violent, animal possessiveness at the last party they attended, Bucky should have been aware of how time’s running out. And maybe he was. Maybe he just ignored it because he didn’t want to see, didn’t want to <em>stop</em>.</p><p>None of it changes how badly he wants to see Steve.</p><p>It’s just his luck that it doesn’t happen until he’s well and healed right in time for the Avengers to assemble again. He’s only their sniper this time, ground support strictly out of the picture until Helen gives the go-ahead. The job’s easy enough; Hydra refuses to lie down and die like a good monster despite the hard blow they took when S.H.I.E.L.D fell, but these days, their bark is worse than their bite. Bucky just settles on a rooftop and picks out black-clad, overdramatic neo-Nazis with extreme relish.</p><p>Steve’s there on the ground, his voice sharp and impersonal in Bucky’s ear, and it’s no coincidence that he’s in Bucky’s crosshairs as often as the Hydra goons. He looks regal even when his shield is slamming into skulls, and Bucky wants to peel off the costume and devour the man underneath.</p><p>He knows he’s too close, gone on Steve in a way he never let himself be with anyone in the past. It’s not exactly news. It was too late from the moment he went back for more after that first, impulsive fuck. At least, that’s what he tells himself. Bucky doesn’t like to think that he didn’t have a fighting chance from the first time he laid eyes on Steve Rogers.</p><p>The post-mission party is kind of a ritual these days. It’s a nice change from S.H.I.E.L.D’s harried debriefs. Sure, sometimes all Bucky wants to do is wash the grime and blood off and collapse in bed, but no one bothers him then. And it’s nice to have the option of mingling, even if it all seems so surreal when he stops to think about it.</p><p>Steve’s there, somehow always on the other side of the room from Bucky. Whenever he looks over, Steve’s deep in conversation with Pepper or drinking with Thor, but he can feel eyes on him when his back’s turned and doesn’t need to look to know who they belong to.</p><p>It feels like some fucked-up game, and yeah, Bucky started it, but Steve’s no innocent bystander. Bucky’s skin has swallowed enough bruises to prove it.</p><p>Sam’s the first to retire, followed by Clint and Natasha. The rest follow, filing out slowly. They’re all tired, heading up to their floors in twos and threes until it’s just Bucky, Steve, and Thor left. They get in the elevator together. The silence seems loud, but maybe that’s just Bucky. Thor seems cheerful enough, just far more subdued than usual. He gets off first; the floor he shares with Dr. Foster when she visits is below Steve’s and Bucky’s. Bucky absently returns his goodbye, hyperaware of Steve beside him.</p><p>Bucky’s floor is right under Steve’s. The doors open. He doesn’t step out.</p><p>Steve says nothing.</p><p>He follows Steve in silence, jittery and unsettled but at a loss for words. He watches as Steve unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt, leaving his clavicle enticingly exposed. Normally, Bucky would take that as an invitation. But the kiss in the hospital wasn’t in their script. Steve’s fault.</p><p>Anger flares, hot and irrational, and Bucky’s moving before he can think better off it, grabbing Steve by the shoulder and slamming him against the nearest wall. Steve lets it happen, doesn’t break out of Bucky’s grip like he so easily could. There’s a hitch in his breath, and his eyes are dark when they meet Bucky’s.</p><p>Bucky presses up against him with the whole length of his body, his own breathing speeding at the hot, solid feel of Steve against him.</p><p>“You’ve been ignoring me, Cap. Didn’t even bring me flowers in the hospital. Might hurt a guy’s feelings.”</p><p>He’s not sure what’s more impressive – how quickly Steve shuts down or how Bucky can see the walls rise without even trying. Steve pushes him away, one hand firm on Bucky’s chest, and he lets himself be moved, staggering back as Steve brushes past him.</p><p>“You seem just fine to me, Barnes,” Steve says, not even looking back at Bucky, who follows him past the living room and into the kitchen, watching with sweaty palms as Steve makes the most aggressive cup of coffee known to mankind.</p><p>His nerves don’t show in his voice when he speaks, but then, he’s had a lifetime of practice with that.</p><p>“Yeah, well, maybe I missed you.”</p><p>Steve doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t kick Bucky out when he follows him back to the living room. Steve drops down on the couch, nursing his mug of coffee. Bucky feels a little nauseated at how much caffeine is in that thing; he likes his coffee strong, but Steve’s could kill crops. Bucky can’t think of why he’d put himself through that. Caffeine doesn’t even affect the guy. It’s hard to imagine the taste being the appeal.</p><p>But people do weird shit, and Captain America is no different. His quirks just happen to include pesticide grade coffee.</p><p>“Don’t believe me, Cap?” Bucky asks when minutes pass and Steve does nothing other than sip at his scalding abomination. “And here I thought that was what you wanted.”</p><p>“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Steve’s glare pierces through Bucky, but there’s something beyond anger to it, a feeling Bucky’s too scared to scrutinize. He doesn’t get a chance either way; Steve shakes his head a second later, lips thinning further. “No. Never mind. We’re not playing this game. I’m done, Bucky.”</p><p>He sounds like he means it, Bucky’s name heavy on his tongue. This isn’t the first time Steve has refused to play along, but he always caves with a speed that alleviates most of Bucky’s guilt over pushing and pushing. But this? There’s finality in his tone, in the look in his eyes.</p><p>Bucky’s across the room in a flash, taking the mug from Steve’s hands and straddling his lap. His weight’s on Steve because he can damn well take it, and Steve’s not so good an actor that he can hide how he likes Bucky so close, all pretty in his lap.</p><p>Bucky fists his free hand in Steve’s hair and puts the coffee on the table. There’s a drop of it on Steve’s upper lip, dark and inviting, and Bucky leans in and licks it off.</p><p>“Tastes like shit,” he rasps, and then he’s kissing Steve.</p><p>He’s not slow about it though he wants to be, if only because it’s been a fucking long time since he has kissed anyone. He knows how to use his mouth to make Steve come in less than five minutes, but a kiss stumps him, makes him part his lips and whine a little against Steve’s mouth like he’s begging to be made good use of. And Steve does, god, he always fucking does. His hands bracket Bucky’s face, keeps him right where Steve wants him, panting against his mouth while Steve’s tongue maps out the spaces behind his teeth.</p><p>It’s wet and dirty, nothing like that chaste first kiss in the hospital. Bucky’s cock fills so hard that his head spins, and he tears Steve’s hair out by the roots, clinging for dear life.</p><p>He shudders when they part, lips wet with their mingled spit. Steve’s mouth looks pink and shiny, but it’s his eyes that send a spear of need right down to Bucky’s groin.</p><p>He rests his forehead against Steve’s, closing his eyes so that he doesn’t have to meet that burning gaze.</p><p>“We’ve ruined each other, haven’t we?” he rasps against Steve’s mouth. “Look what you’ve done to me. Christ, look what I’ve done to <em>you</em>.”</p><p>He kisses Steve again to punctuate his point, cupping his gorgeous jaw and gentling the brush of their mouths. It’s a little awkward, and Bucky aches to be kissed like Steve’s going to eat him whole, but he pulls back before it can deepen, peering at Steve from under his lashes.</p><p>Steve looks pained, but there’s pink high on his cheeks and his pupils are blown wide.</p><p>“We can’t keep doing this, Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky <em>knows</em>, alright, but the nickname’s new and distracting, makes something in Bucky bubble up warmly, but then Steve contradicts himself by catching Bucky’s mouth in a kiss that heats him down to his soul and language escapes him for a long damn time.</p><p>He jolts back to awareness when Steve rises from the couch, lifting Bucky like he weighs nothing. Bucky wraps his legs around him, long since secure in Steve’s strength. He can feel muscles work under him, under his palms and against his thighs. Steve kisses him again, casually holding Bucky up like his knees don’t turn to jelly at the first touch of their tongues. Bucky’s a fucking mess, moaning into Steve’s mouth like he’s already got a dick coaxing him open, and it’s embarrassing and for the life of him, he can’t remember why he didn’t let Steve kiss him before.</p><p>He can’t remember if it was this good the last time he was kissed either, and he doesn’t give a shit. This is Steve, and he sets Bucky on fire without even trying. A man like that’s dangerous, but Bucky’s always liked to play with fire, right until it burns him.</p><p>They make it to the bed somehow – or rather, Steve does and Bucky just hangs onto him for dear life. They don’t stop kissing for more than a few minutes, and Bucky whines when he’s dumped on the bed, lips tingling fiercely.</p><p>Steve’s gorgeously disheveled above him, hair a riot from Bucky’s hands and skin all flushed. He strips off with enviable efficiency. The shirt goes first, and Bucky has to bite back a groan at the flesh revealed. He aches to mouth his way down those abs, sharp and teasing until Steve loses what little patience has and shoves Bucky down on his cock until he chokes. His mouth waters, cock drips, and Steve’s too far all of a sudden, the few feet between their bodies as unbearable as an ocean.</p><p>Bucky whines again, high and pitiful, and Steve hushes him, gentler than usual about it. He lays his bare body on top of Bucky’s fully clothed one, pressing him into the mattress. Bucky melts into it, letting Steve strip him and arrange him however he wants. He’s not in the mood to fight just to make Steve put him in his place, but boy would Bucky beg for the things Steve does to him.</p><p>But there’s no teasing tonight, just Bucky naked and kneeling on all fours, hole stretched around three fingers. It burns, the rushed prep balancing on the edge of too much, but still, Steve seems tame tonight, a little less like he wants to hear Bucky scream. He pulls his fingers out after one last tug at his hole and pushes Bucky on to his back. He doesn’t know why he feels more vulnerable like this than when he’s got his back to Steve; maybe it’s the intimacy of it, dangerous and intoxicating.</p><p>He can’t read anything but lust on Steve’s face. He’s kneeling between Bucky’s legs, eyeing him up while slicking his dick. Bucky’s cock stands hard and neglected, but he knows damn well that he won’t touch it until Steve tells him he can.</p><p>“Hands above your head,” Steve says, a quiet command, and Bucky obeys without conscious thought. He preens when Steve eyes the muscles in his arms, and the long line of his torso, but has to close his eyes with a gasp when those strong hands tighten on his thighs, lifting him effortlessly for Steve’s cock. It’s huge and hot and sets Bucky on fire, pleasure and pain jolting up his spine.</p><p>“Eyes on me,” Steve snaps, and Bucky pries his eyes open, an apology fluttering in his throat but not leaving his lips simply because he doesn’t have the breath for it. He blinks at Steve instead, tears at the corners of his eyes, and feels his face heat the look in those eyes. He wants to look away, some futile self-preservation, but Steve wants him to look at him, and Bucky can’t bear to disappoint him.</p><p>It scares him, how easily he gives in to Steve, how he so badly wants to. It was simpler in the beginning, when he could take a beating and a fucking and walk away with his wits mostly to himself. He paid for it sometimes, his mind turning on him, but that wasn’t anything new. There are times when he longs for the detachment of those days, when he could tell himself that he kept going back to Steve because he was an amazing fuck and actually believe it.</p><p>“Gorgeous,” Steve murmurs, brutally pulling Bucky out of his head. He stares, wide-eyed, but Steve just calmly meets his gaze while pushing ever so slowly into him, and Bucky forgets how to breathe.</p><p>It feels like a lifetime before Steve’s all the way inside, buried to the hilt and splitting Bucky wide. It’s a lot, always is, but Bucky squirms because he wants more, wants the burn of Steve fucking into him like he wants to break Bucky.</p><p>Instead, he gets Steve stretching over him, letting go of Bucky’s legs and trusting him to wrap them around Steve’s waist. The weight of him presses Bucky into the mattress, pinning him down as mercilessly as the hands that wrap around his wrists, pushing both flesh and metal deep into the pillow. Bucky pants wetly, the sound too loud in his ears, and Steve’s almost serene except for the way his eyes devour Bucky with blatant greed. He can’t meet them for long, not without blurting something he’ll regret later, but he keeps flitting back to them, hungrily drinking in the need in them.</p><p>Then Steve starts moving, the whole mass of him keeping Bucky trapped right where he wants him while his cock slides in and out in with maddening deliberation. It’s slow and hard, Steve almost pulling out with every thrust before pushing right back in, keeping Bucky stretched open on his cockhead for a few infinite seconds each time. It has him whining and gasping within a minute, legs tightening helplessly around Steve’s body and clinging for dear life. He <em>feels</em> every fucking second of it, Steve’s leisurely strokes leaving him no choice but to ache over every inch of the cock prying him wide. Bucky’s body rocks gently to the thrusts, but he doesn’t go anywhere, keep there under Steve like a prized possession.</p><p>And fuck, there’s a thought, one that has Bucky tossing his head to the side and biting his lip through a needy whimper.</p><p>“Bucky,” Steve sighs, the tone a warning all on its own, but Bucky can only shake his head, eyes flitting over Steve’s cheeks and jaw without ever meeting his eyes.</p><p>Steve turns vicious for a second, shoving into Bucky with calculated savagery, and it makes him shout, arching his back and trying to writhe, but the sound gets stolen right out of his mouth by scorching lips.</p><p>Bucky moans, can’t help it, and Steve takes shameless advantage, sliding his tongue inside to fuck Bucky’s mouth to the rhythm of his cock. It’s messy, filthy, right until Steve gentles the kiss until their mouths are just moving softly against each other. Bucky tries for more, flicks his tongue at the seam of Steve’s lips, but teeth sink down hard on his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. He gets the message, loud and clear, and the shock of it goes tight to his gut, making his dick drool and ass clench.</p><p>Steve hisses, breath hot on Bucky’s mouth, and fucks him a little faster, pushing deep like he’s trying to crawl inside Bucky. His mouth’s no softer, all teeth and tongue all of a sudden, and Bucky opens himself for it, thoughts going fuzzy at the dual assault. He’s always lost his head when Steve fucked him, and the kiss earlier was hardly kinder to his senses, but that’s nothing to the combination of both, Steve’s cock and tongue taking him apart into pieces that might never fit together again.</p><p>Bucky eats up all of it, burning up for the heat smoldering inside him.</p><p>Climax hits him like a bullet to the chest, spearing through without warning. His cock spurts where it’s trapped between their bodies, splattering their stomachs with come. Steve makes a sound into Bucky’s mouth, maybe a moan, but it’s hard to hear past his own desperate keening. Steve breaks the kiss but doesn’t stop fucking Bucky, just rises enough to watch Bucky gasp open-mouthed as each errant brush on his prostate sends aftershocks through him. He’s always sensitive after, feels every touch and every stroke like molten fire, and Steve knows it, loves to abuse it.</p><p>“Please,” Bucky manages, the word clawing up his throat, and for half a second, he expects Steve to listen, to ease up, because there’s something about this that’s soft in a way they never are. Bucky doesn’t know to feel about that; he’s not built for tenderness, the giving or the taking, and there’s a moment where he thinks: <em>maybe he’ll stop, maybe he’ll come, maybe this will end</em> and–</p><p>And it doesn’t.</p><p>Steve kisses the plea out of his lips, drinks in his whines, and fucks Bucky deep and hard without a whisper of mercy. Bucky writhes, can’t help it, muscles straining with the effort to break out and away, do <em>something</em>, but Steve has the serum running through his veins and the will to match and keeps him down without even trying, metal and flesh both bent to his desire.</p><p>Heat erupts inside Bucky, almost more intense than his orgasm. He pants into Steve’s mouth, begs around the tongue kissing him wetly, and squirms helplessly even when the movements only push Steve’s cock deeper into him. It hurts his sensitive flesh, and Bucky wants to stay here, just like this, forever.</p><p>He doesn’t know why he thought a kiss would make Steve softer, kinder, but damn, he’s been a fool. Steve’s perfect, always has been, always will be, and Bucky’s terrified out of his mind when it’s not melting with pleasure.</p><p>Steve breaks the kiss to bite Bucky’s neck, teeth closing in on sweat-slick skin and sinking deep. The pain goes straight to his dick, make it twitch in a puddle of his own come, but it’s nothing to the heat of Steve coming inside him, marking Bucky up until he’s drenched with it.</p><p>Steve collapses on Bucky, cock slipping out. Bucky winces, then bites down a moan when come trickles out of him, hot and filthy. Steve rolls off him all too soon, lying on his side on the bed as he catches his breath. Bucky can move his hands now, and it aches, blood rushing to his flesh fingers. It’s worth it, and he knows his right wrist will have bruises in the shape of Steve tomorrow. He brushes a thumb on the marked skin like he’s reassuring himself.</p><p>The marks will fade, eventually. All of them. But Bucky will remember for as long as he lives.</p><p>Steve prepares to rise, and they know how this goes. Steve will hide away in his own home because that’s the kindest cruelty Bucky could do to him, back in the beginning, and Bucky will gather his boneless limbs and limp out the door. He can already see it, a set pattern with only so many variations.</p><p>Steve sits up, shifts to swing his legs over the side, and Bucky catches his arm in a slightly desperate grip.</p><p>Time seems to freeze.</p><p>“Barnes,” Steve says, back to that name now that they’re done, and Bucky tightens his grip.</p><p>“Stay,” he says, barely recognizing his own voice.</p><p>Steve stays. His moments are slow in a way give away how rigidly controlled they are, and Bucky can see the tension knotting up his back. He wants to touch him, reassure him somehow, but he doesn’t have anything that wouldn’t be a lie, and Bucky’s cruel but not that cruel. Soon, Steve’s lying down again. He’s a mess, they both are, sweat and come drying on cooling skin, but when Bucky hesitantly presses himself close, Steve pulls him into his arms without so much as a blink.</p><p>And isn’t it a miracle that Steve can still hold him like this, even after everything they’ve done to each other?</p><p>They don’t speak for some time. Words are a little beyond Bucky at the moment, and he imagines Steve’s no better equipped to deal with this situation. He can feel the tension in his body even as he’s holding Bucky so tight. Bucky’s no better, stiff in Steve’s arms but clinging to him all the same.</p><p>It’s funny – they’re great at sex, can play each other like fine-tuned instruments, but a moment of intimacy has them both stumbling and tense.</p><p>Bucky burrows into Steve with renewed determination and is gratified by the kiss that lands on the crown of his head. It’s a gentle pressure, and he almost misses it, but only almost.</p><p>He could fall asleep like this, but no. Not yet.</p><p>“Why didn’t you visit?”</p><p>Bucky can’t say he didn’t mean to ask that. The question has been burning his throat for weeks and weeks; a lifetime. It still takes effort to actually let it slip past his lips.</p><p>“I did.” Steve’s voice is bland, pointedly empty. “You saw me.”</p><p>“I meant before. And…after.”</p><p>“I did,” Steve repeats, softer this time. “I stalked the hallways. Didn’t come in unless I was sure you were asleep. I didn’t know what I’d say, what I’d do if you were awake. And then you did wake.”</p><p>He very carefully doesn’t mention what happened then, and Bucky doesn’t push. A part of him wants to, but that’s the part that wants things Bucky can’t provide. He can have this – Steve’s arms around him, Steve’s breath brushing his temple – for now, but no more.</p><p>“And after?”</p><p>“I didn’t make it past the parking lot. Natasha kept me updated.”</p><p>“Traitor,” Bucky grumbles but he doesn’t really mean it.</p><p>There’s a quiet hum from Steve, not amused so much as fondly indulgent. Bucky wants to draw back and look at his face, drink in his expression and the light in those pretty blues. He hides his face in Steve’s neck instead, breathing in the smell of sex and sweat and Steve.</p><p>“Bucky, you – what are you doing?”</p><p>Bucky thinks for a long time. Steve doesn’t push, but his breaths are shallower than they should be.</p><p>“Staying the night. If you’ll have me.”</p><p>Fingers slide under his jaw, gently prying him off Steve. He lets it happen, keeps his face open to the searching gaze that follows. The confusion in Steve’s eyes doesn’t hurt as much as the hope that sparks a moment later, but Bucky hides it and smiles instead, a small, quiet thing that aches in his heart.</p><p>“You can,” Steve says. “Of course you can, Buck.”</p><p>The name pulls at him, hooks deep into his chest and wrenches something loose. Steve’s a good man, rough but right.</p><p>Bucky should never have touched him.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Bucky wakes first.</p><p>He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he knows it was before Steve did. He could feel the weight of those eyes as he kept his own closed and reached for oblivion, and it wasn’t comfortable to be looked like that, never was, especially not when it was Steve Rogers doing the looking. But there was something to be said for the breathless fluttering of Bucky’s heart as he fought not to squirm under Steve’s eyes. He half-expected not to sleep at all, but he’s not surprised that he did. Steve’s arms have always felt safe, even when they were pinning Bucky down and slapping bruises into his flesh.</p><p>But he’s glad he’s awake now, while Steve’s still asleep. He wants to return the favor, to take his time and just <em>look</em>.</p><p>He looks at Steve a lot, used to even when he was Captain America and not Steve in Bucky’s head. There is beauty in his movements, a violent grace starkly unlike Natasha’s deceptive delicacy or Bucky’s own polished aggression. The way Steve moves with his shield, jaw clenched and eyes intense – of course Bucky looked.</p><p>Steve gave him other reasons to look later, different and maybe better, but Bucky learned early on that he couldn’t look long before one of them did something about it. The last three years, nearly four now, have done nothing to dampen his need for Steve, his sweet mouth and harsh hands, and Bucky has to wonder if he’ll ever not ache for Steve Rogers.</p><p>How long will he live? He’s in his thirties, young no matter how you spin in, but people in his line of work count their age in dog years. Steve will probably live on, see his actual hundredth birthday, sans the ice and wars that never end. Bucky hopes he does.</p><p>It’s unfair that his thoughts refuse to be anything but fucking morbid even as he’s drinking in the sight of a man so gorgeous it hurts. Steve’s splayed on the bed, one arm on Bucky’s stomach, and his chest moves with every breath. Bucky wants to curl close and slip back to sleep, wants to wake up like this forever.</p><p>Instead, he watches, smiling and thinking terrible things, like how he’ll guard this memory jealously even when it inevitably starts to eat at him.</p><p>Steve’s awake between one breath and the next, and Bucky starts mourning even as he silently observes the way Steve tenses all over before setting his eyes on Bucky and forcing himself to relax. Did he think last night was a dream, that he’d wake to an empty bed? Bucky would have, if their roles were reversed.</p><p>“Hey,” Steve says, sliding the hand he has on Bucky higher until it’s resting limply on his cheek. “You’re here.”</p><p>“I am. Did I wake you?”</p><p>Steve shakes his head, his smile a little puzzled.</p><p>“I usually wake at this time. Guess I’m too used to you to be bothered by the staring.”</p><p>“You calling me a creep, Steve?”</p><p>The smile widens, turns big and sweet. Bucky wants to kiss it off his lips, and he does. He shouldn’t, but he’s greedy, and he’s going to leave Steve broken anyway.</p><p>When he pulls away, Steve’s eyes are wide, his cheeks flushed. It’s more than what a kiss rank with their mingled morning breath should arouse, but Bucky can feel the heat on his own face and the thundering of his helpless heart. He understands and doesn’t that hurt?</p><p>“Breakfast?” Steve offers hopefully, smile turning shy.</p><p><em>Yes</em>, Bucky wants to say, and it’s not just that he wants to put this off. He wants to putter around Steve’s kitchen in one of Steve’s shirts, wants to kiss him over coffee and steal bites from his plate.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Steve’s face falls, but he hides it a second later, eyes still bright. He’s looking at Bucky naked emotion, and all Bucky can think is that all it took was one night of softness.</p><p>He should never have laid his hands on Steve Rogers, but it’s too late now.</p><p>Bucky reaches out, and the motion’s instinctive, but he doesn’t do anything to stop it either. Steve’s lashes flutter at the touch, eyes closing for a second as he leans into the touch. There’s trust in it, Steve letting himself be vulnerable with Bucky. It’s not physical – there’s little Bucky can do to harm his man without a sniper rifle and the safety of distance. But that just makes it worse. He snatches his hand back and forces himself to speak before he makes this any worse.</p><p>“I’m leaving. And Steve, you–” His voice breaks in spite of his best efforts, but Bucky swallows and soldiers on. “You were right, last night. We can’t keep doing this. I know we’ve said it before, but – this time, I – I–”</p><p>The tentative joy drains right out of those sweet blue eyes. Bucky feels like shit at the sole of someone’s shoe.</p><p>“It’s time to stop,” Bucky says anyway, hearing the words leave his lips with ice in his blood. “We’re done.”</p><p>The worst thing is that Steve doesn’t argue.</p><p>There’s a moment where it seems like he will. Bucky braces for it, excitement and trepidation bubbling up in equal measures. In a twisted way, he wants to be convinced, for Steve to refuse and pull him back in, but that’s selfish and fucked up and not fair to Steve. None of this has been fair to Steve.</p><p>It doesn’t matter anyway because Steve says nothing. Bucky can see the emotions flickering over his face. Disbelief, then devastation, and finally – resignation. Like he’s not even surprised. Like he always knew Bucky would do this.</p><p>He turns away, giving Bucky his back. Unlike the touch earlier, this isn’t trust. Just a clear dismissal.</p><p>Bucky wants to leap off the bed and rush out, but he can’t make himself move. He wants to apologize. He wants to take everything back.</p><p>He can’t help reaching out. He flattens his palm against muscles that tense at the touch and thinks, for long, raging minutes, of staying. <em>I love you</em>, he could say and have it be true. He could help build the life Steve wants, be someone to come home to.</p><p>They could fool themselves that Bucky has more to give than sniper fire and blood-soaked metal. Maybe it will be enough for Steve and the war in his veins, but what kind of a life is that?</p><p>It isn’t. Bucky won’t do that to Steve. He won’t do that to anyone. It’s the one thing he promised himself, a long time ago.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>Steve says nothing. Bucky takes his hand away. He swallows, but the lump in his throat remains. He’s slow when he gets off the bed and pulls on rumpled clothes. His own jeans. Steve’s shirt. One last crime.</p><p>He leaves because Steve won’t, because Bucky was always going to be the one who had to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Now you know why we need a sequel series. I knew, halfway into plotting the parts of this, that this couldn't end well, not unless the intention was for a really toxic relationship - which I'm absolutely cool writing but I want to be kinder here, with these two. There's one more installment in CFTBTKM, and after that, I'll start posting the sequel series <i>the hero's shoulders.</i> It's completely written and covers the CW to EG era, with major canon divergence and a surprising amount of plot.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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